She was right on about this one, however. I was too good for the man I married.
I need a Mr. Big. Someone secure with himself; not big in the head. With big ideas and big hugs. Someone who will not wuss out under a little bedazzle.
But Mr. Big hasn't called. Maybe he doesn't know my phone number. I don't know my phone number either. Wait, I don't even answer my phone. (My friend Joe scolds me, "Dating Suburban, if you gonna start dating, you need to learn to pick up your phone when they call.") Well, Mr. Big isn't calling, so I'm letting it go to voicemail.Maybe he doesn't know I exist. Staying home and reading self-help books may not be helping. Hmmmm. I guess I need to get out more.
Back to the scene!
Post a Comment